


Base of a Caricature

by GalaxyGazing



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Alcohol, Choking, Insanity, Knives, M/M, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10031765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGazing/pseuds/GalaxyGazing
Summary: If Luigi thought he was in control of this, he would later realize that he was wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hover over the Italian text for the English translation

 

Grab any newspaper, even the ratty ones thrown in the dumpsters, and you were guaranteed to find an article on the troubles of the Largo children. These days, tabloids were readily available on Amber’s supposed Zyrdrate addiction, Luigi’s rageful murders, and Pavi’s unabashed face-wearing. In the beginning, their father Rotti had put forth great effort to conceal these shameful behaviors, but now he was either too exhausted by the persistence of such embarrassments or, more likely, he let the press run wild to spite them.

They weren’t always this extreme, but Luigi was pressed to admit that it had started fairly early—their separate roads to being wrong in the head. He recalled most clearly one particular, white-hot moment that occurred when Pavi was eighteen, because his twisted road was very clearly entwined with his own.

Luigi had always had a short fuse and an angry brow and nothing about him changed as he grew older except that the fuse became shorter. The irony in Pavi’s past, however, lay in the fact that he used to be quite beautiful until he scarred up his own face. The youngest Largo son was lovely and effeminate with a thin frame and pierced ears. Luigi would have almost resented him for it if Pavi’s abundance of looks wasn’t a tradeoff for a severe lack of brains. Even from the start, Pavi was always very much—off.

Who knows how the argument started, but at its core Luigi was demanding that Pavi do something, and Pavi, lying recumbently on the couch with one leg thrown over the back of it, was giggling at his simmering anger and writing him off. Not an uncommon scenario, mind you, but Luigi was absolutely seething. He was fed up with Pavi thinking he was safe from his threats because of their father, and Luigi had just about enough of his lackadaisical, floaty attitude and general lack of respect.

In a burst of fury, Luigi grabbed Pavi by his ruffled shirt so hard it lifted his lightweight body off the couch. Dragging his sibling a few feet he slammed his back against the wall hard enough to hurt. One of his trembling hands curled around Pavi’s throat and the other instinctively reached for the switchblade in his back pocket and held it inches from his face. Pavi’s eyes flicked to the sharp metal in full attention, panting in exhilaration but still, oddly, smiling.

“Listen to me, you giggling piece of shit. If you think I won’t do it because I’m your brother, you’re dead wrong.”

Pavi’s chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing but he was still utterly grinning.

“I’ve had enough of it, Pavi. You’re always fucking _like_ this. I swear to god I’ll cut you open and run your innards around the room.”

Pavi’s only reaction was to chew at the corner of his lip and bring his knee up slightly, just enough to nudge between Luigi’s thighs. Luigi jerked him away from the wall by the neck slammed his skull back into it to rattle him out of whatever he was trying. Pavi gasped quietly.

“You have a death wish?” Luigi bellowed, but was immediately stunned to silence as Pavi’s nimble fingers ghosted up the seam of his crotch and began to pluck quietly at Luigi’s belt.

Luigi knocked his brother’s head against the wall a second time, “Fucking _stop_ it!”

With one of his hands choking Pavi’s jugular and the other brandishing the knife, he had no way of halting Pavi’s work. The quiet jingling of metal revealed that at last the belt was unclasped and Pavi tried to tug it from its hold. The shallow chirps of breath began to quicken as Pavi became in greater need of air, but it appeared that he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes dropped away from the knife to the space between them, knee back at work in a gentle rocking motion.

Luigi was appalled but, more than that, he was livid. Even with a blade to his face, Pavi was still distracted by his own interests rather than respectful of his brother’s authority. And all Luigi could think to do was turn that on him.

With a guttural snarl, Luigi tore him from the wall once more, flipping him around and crushing his chest against the hard surface. He was offended by the attempt to distract him, if that was in fact what it was, but he was secretly much more offended by the fact that his body was reacting.

“You little…you don’t know what you just asked for.”

In seconds, he’d finished the work Pavi started with his belt, pushing his trousers down just enough and spitting on his hand to work the wetness onto his hardening cock. It didn’t take long to get him to where he needed to be and seconds later he was tearing down Pavi’s own trousers.

Kicking a foot between Pavi’s legs, Luigi stepped to the side, forcing them open and grabbed a fistful of Pavi’s vest, shoving hard between his shoulder blades to make sure he couldn’t lift his front half. And without so much of a warning, Luigi drove into him.

Pavi made a sound of obvious pain, but the delirious little oddball had his face turned to the side so Luigi could see his still very apparent smile between his open-mouthed huffing. Luigi pulled out of him and pushed back in mercilessly. For Luigi this was about power, showing dominance, but Pavi was arching and mewling sounds of absolute satisfaction much the opposite to his desired effect.

When Luigi would shove too harshly into him Pavi would stagger for a split second and the sound he made was clearly reflexive, but then he’d go right back to grinning, panting through his smile, fucking _moaning._

When Luigi saw that Pavi was actually enjoying being treated so roughly, for the first time he was perplexed. He was confused how to assert himself and his thoughts only became hazier as his own pleasure started to work its way into his belly. Luigi shoved him harder than ever into the wall and really bore down on finishing. Almost as quickly as it started, Luigi was emptied into him in only a few minutes.

Separating from him quickly, Luigi used the fist that held his brother’s vest to yank him back and shove him to the floor. Pavi fell with an audibly painful thump to his knees, but as he sat up carefully, head bent to the floor, Luigi very clearly heard him still giggling.

And at that point, there was nothing he could say.

 

-

 

Their second descent into madness came when Luigi was in his room, lying on his bed. It had been a month since the incident had happened and he did everything he could to neatly file that memory away in his mind as a ‘means to teach Pavi a lesson’ and nothing more. Whether or not he actually accomplished that goal was irrelevant.

Avoiding him was easy as their home was enormous and their interests kept them naturally separate anyway. However, as he lay on his back, cleaning a beloved butterfly knife, Pavi slipped into the room like a shadow. He entered so quietly that Luigi only realized his presence when he heard the subtle _snick_ of the door being re-locked behind him.

“You’re required to knock,” Luigi growled, lowly. Pavi smiled back.

Luigi watched through narrowed eyes as his brother crossed the room slowly, silently, then, in the same entitled manner, came to place a knee on either side of him until he was straddling Luigi’s lap.

“Get the hell off of me!” Luigi barked, knife raised slightly higher.

“Shhh…va bene.” Pavi whispered, Italian rolling off his tongue, buttery and smooth. Deliberately, he began to rock his hips back and forth at a delicately slow pace. Luigi could feel their lengths rubbing together through the fabric and it was dizzying. He wasn’t about to let his control slip.

Violently, he grabbed Pavi by the shirt collar and pulled him down, holding the blade to his throat, “We’re _not_ doing this again.”

And Pavi, eyes lidded deviously, lifted his hips just enough to snake a hand between the two of them and really grip Luigi through his trousers, stroking him at a comfortable pace. Luigi twitched and stiffened, pressing the flat of his blade up under Pavi’s jaw in a dangerous attempt to be taken more seriously.

Entirely unfazed, Pavi gently curled his free hand around Luigi’s own, removing the knife from his throat with absolutely no effort and flicked his tongue over Luigi’s wrist. By this point, Luigi had been teased to full hardness and Pavi dismounted from his straddle only to completely remove his lower attire.

From his vest pocket, he produced a small bottle of some nice-smelling oil which told Luigi that he clearly came here with intent and that shocked him into a submissive awe. He watched Pavi work the oil into his backside and then free Luigi from his garments to glaze him with the rest.

Pavi’s porcelain brow knotted slightly and his grin never waned as he looked over his shoulder to align them perfectly.

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Luigi asked breathlessly, and it was more of a sincere question than an insult. He was dumbfounded at what was unfolding.

Pavi sat delicately and Luigi knew he, himself, had also given in to this bizarre circumstance when he grabbed his brother’s narrow hips and helped him get fully seated.

Pavi bit his lip again and his long eyelashes fluttered as he wiggled to adjust. Luigi’s stomach dropped at the thought that he looked very much like a lady with his longish hair and studded ears. With cosmetic surgeries now as common as breathing, natural good looks were a rarity and there was no denying that Pavi had them.

“Questo è un bene, sì?”

Luigi grumbled, “Just get on with it.”

Pavi began to work his hips and Luigi slid his hands down to Pavi’s thighs, as he seemed more than capable of handling this without his help. The bed creaked slightly and Luigi clenched his teeth, unsure if he was allowed to enjoy just how damn good this felt. The oil definitely made things nicer and Pavi’s medium pace seemed much more indulgent than Luigi’s frantic one.

Shortly, Pavi began to whimper just a little bit, quiet enough to be mistaken for a loud breath if you weren’t paying attention but, oh, Luigi was. Not only did Pavi have his full attention but he was vivid, overstimulating. The smell of him was sweet, the sight of him was mesmerizing.

Briefly, Luigi wondered if the city would ever suspect that their most powerful leaders reveled in incestuous luxury. That thought was quickly forgotten as Pavi reached to stroke his own length and Luigi defiantly grabbed his wrist,

“No. You wanted my cock. That’s the only way you’re getting off.”

Pavi’s devilish smile widened at receiving that command and his eyes glinted with either lust or insanity. Bending low over Luigi he finally, at last, chose to obey him. He kept his elbows on either side of Luigi’s head, fingers weaving through his hair, and lowered his head into the crook of his neck to give his earlobe a lick in acknowledgement.

Working with a little more vigor now, Pavi sped his pace, panting and whining with lips pressed directly to Luigi’s ear. Luigi was almost grateful for it because, at this angle, Pavi couldn’t see the pleasure that was contorting his face. Placing his feet flat on the bed, Luigi bent his knees which made Pavi fall forward just a few inches, and began to rapidly buck up into him.

Luigi knew Pavi lifted his head because his noise of surprise was yelped behind him instead of into his ear, and Luigi dug his fingernails into those narrow hips to make him moan louder.

With combined efforts from both of them, neither brother lasted long and Luigi shut his eyes tight as he enjoyed a much more thorough orgasm this time around. When he was finished, he felt Pavi’s own wetness burning between their stomachs.

Pavi sat up slowly and gazed down at Luigi with a dripping belly and an amiable grin. Luigi tried to persuade himself to come down from the afterglow enough to remember that his beautiful brother was, in fact, still an aggravation.

“Are you _finished_?”

Pavi giggled, “If you want me to be.”

Luigi scowled and gripped him by the hips to pull out of him. He lifted the little whelp with very minimal effort and then tossed him to the side of his mattress with a plush bounce.

“Get out. And knock first next time.”

 

-

 

But there wasn’t a knock for next time and Luigi was genuinely concerned for his own mental health when he found he was awaiting one.

He was a respectable bachelor of twenty-three and the women who were more intrigued by his wealth than fearful of his murderous reputation would still flock to him in bars. Luigi began leaving the house more often, even laid a few of them, but that didn’t stop him from leaving his door unlocked when he knew Pavi was home.

Pavi for the most part seemed to be in no turmoil whatsoever and, as early as a week after their second encounter, he was back to initiating their typical incendiary banter which Luigi was much less inclined to participate in. Luigi knew the little freak was laying some girls of his own, which only reinforced Luigi’s belief that Pavi’s incestuous demands of him were solely another means to mess with his head. He wouldn’t put it past him. Sometimes the only motive the kid needed for a heinous act was the fact that he thought it might be fun.

It had been two months. Luigi was growing tired of the girls but not the drink and now told contenders to fuck off so he could stew alone at bars. He was at the tail end of his buzz when he made it home that night, with just enough alcohol left in him to start remembering the curve of Pavi’s hipbones and the smell of whateverthefuck oil that was.

It was twilight-late and as he passed Pavi’s door he saw it was closed, which meant that he was home. As with most of his actions in life, Luigi was once again motivated by his rage. _That little jerk, probably wanted this to happen…knew I wouldn’t stop thinking about him._

Surprisingly, the door was open, but not for long as Luigi locked it behind him. Crossing the dark room quickly, Luigi tore down the covers which woke up Pavi almost instantly. The younger brother was sleeping faced down and shivered when he was exposed, groggily lifting himself to his forearms in a dream-dazed confusion. Luigi grabbed a fistful of his silk nightshirt and harshly shoved his face back into the sheets,

“Stay down…” he panted, “Stay down.”

Pavi groaned, still uncomprehending, and Luigi adjusted his skinny body to get him into a position he could work with. The hand that wasn’t pinning him pulled Pavi’s backside up by the hips, prompting him to stabilize himself on his knees, which he did.

“We always do this when it’s convenient for you. Now we do it when it’s convenient for me.”

Pavi gasped at the command, now more fully awake. Luigi began to fumble with his belt before he remembered, “Where’s that oil stuff? Hurry up.”

“Dresser,” Pavi murmured through pillow fluff. Luigi left the bed briefly to fish around in the nearby dresser for the item and found it almost instantly. When he came back to the bed, he found that his brother had remained obediently face down with his backside raised. Invitingly, Pavi reached behind himself to pull his night pants down to his knees to save Luigi the trouble.

Now that Luigi’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see that Pavi’s trademark grin was back and his eyes were focused on him, daring. With a snarl, Luigi took his place behind him once more. He quickly used the oil the way he’d seen Pavi do it. Immediately afterwards, he was guiding the head of his erection into him, pressing determinedly into a tightness that almost threatened not to give.

Pavi gave a dry sob but by this point Luigi had learned that was not a request to stop.

“Oh, fuck,” Luigi hissed as he forced himself the rest of the way in. For stability, he bent low over Pavi’s frame, fist still clenched tightly into the back of his night shirt, pressing him down more for Luigi’s own comfort rather than necessity.

At last, the eldest brother allowed himself to be audible, grunting low and consistently with almost every thrust. Pavi’s fingers were still white-knuckling the bedsheets but his groans were becoming noticeably more pleasured. Not that Luigi was being any gentler, the little weirdo just liked the pain.

Luigi ground him open, sucking a hissed breath through his clenched teeth before releasing it in a vexed sigh, “You know this is wrong, right? Fuck, Pavi, why’d you get me started—“

Pavi gave a satisfied whimper. It did not escape Luigi that his brother had refrained from touching himself, still following his orders from last time. Luigi doubled his efforts.

“This is your fault, got it? _You’re_ the one who’s fucked up. I’m just, I’m just—“

Luigi pressed his full weight down into him and lost the ability to speak when He felt Pavi shiver and tighten around him. For the first time, Pavi came before him and the rhythmic, clenching spasms of his backside on Luigi’s cock made white pop behind his eyelids. Wildly, he drove Pavi into the mattress to meet his crashing orgasm.

Luigi trembled through the best of it, blinking his eyes open blearily when he was finished. He had planned on shoving out of him after he was done but he was too stunned by the force of it all to do anything other than separate from him gently.

Surprised at himself, Luigi quietly pulled up his trousers and swung his legs over the mattress to sit at the edge of it. At the same time, Pavi took great care to sit up onto his wobbly knees before asking cheerily,

“Ti senti meglio ora?”

The elder sighed defeatedly and Pavi moved to place a tender, but clearly victorious, kiss on his cheek.

Luigi let him.

 

-

 

The most terrifying part, form Luigi’s perspective, was that he not only normalized those events, but began to crave them. Pavi was young and unbelievably gorgeous in a world full of the grotesque and Luigi was almost sick to admit that he was more attractive to him than any woman he’d been with.

On more than one occasion, Luigi would find himself in that dark bedroom again, opening up Pavi in a way that was hard to write off as punishment. At this point, they each knew that they wanted this. They began meeting more frequently and eventually it got to the point where Luigi completely lost the lump in his stomach that warned him this was not normal behavior for siblings. This was how they interacted now, and admittedly it was much more pleasant than fighting, though they still did enjoy the occasional spat. The world was a messed up place anyway, he figured, what did anyone care what he did in the privacy of his own home?  
  
“Isn’t this cute,” Amber commented, entirely unfazed by the sight of her brothers screwing missionary in a spare bedroom (with a faulty lock, apparently).

“Hello, Carmela,” Pavi grinned then gasped as Luigi ripped out of him.

“Don’t tell dad.” Luigi begged, hastily tucking his shirttails into his unbuckled pants, erection still prominent through the fabric. Pavi simply bent a knee upward, running the back of his hand over his forehead like a tired movie star.

Luigi wondered for a moment if he should pull his knife and turn that plea into a threat, but Amber, even at her young age of ten, was leagues smarter than Pavi and threats could sometimes backfire.

“Not right away. I need to hold this over you until I get what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Luigi sneered, finally getting his belt shut.

“The girl who’s doing a duet with Mag tonight--I need her taken out. Not too long before the show because I won’t have Dad finding a replacement. I’m taking that spotlight.”

“Ugh, Amber, really? You know dad hates when his plans get fucked.”

“Do it.”

“Fine. How long are you going to milk this?”

“As long as I need to.”

And of course she did, until the murders Luigi wasn’t careful enough to cover up or blame on someone else began to aggravate his father and put his chance at inheritance in jeopardy. One night, Amber made a demand that Luigi refused to meet and the next day he and Pavi were called into Rotti’s office.

Their father sat rather tiredly at his desk, trying his best not to exhaust himself further by showing any anger. Not a word was ever spoken of what his sons were accused. The businessman merely gestured to a lineup of twelve rather lovely women, all dressed in white.

“Luigi, Pavi. Thank you for coming. I’d like you to meet the new staff of our organ rooms, our Gentern team. I’m putting them under your command so I implore you both to use their services however you see _fit_ ,” Rotti frowned, composure slipping just enough so that his disgust was a little too pungent at the end of his sentence.

The girls grinned knowingly. Pavi raised his eyebrows. Luigi understood what this meant.

 

-

 

A month went by with the Genterns on board and Luigi silently hoped that Pavi had gotten their father’s message but the way he was tugging at the waist of his trousers suggested that he hadn’t.

Pavi grinned and swiped his tongue up under Luigi’s jaw, but Luigi held him back by the shoulders.

“No. We’re not doing this.”

“Tu dici sempre che,” Pavi mewled, attempting another taste at his skin.

"Non capisci?” Luigi snarled, matching his Italian, “Why do you think dad hired those Genterns, Pavi?”

“They’re alright but they bore me now and then. I need something un po 'più ruvida.”

“Fuck, listen to me! He _knows_ , Pavi. And he’s furious. If we keep this up he’ll consider it a deliberate attempt to disgrace him and we’ll be out on the street. Or worse because he really only cares about Amber. Either way, you can kiss your inheritance goodbye for sure.”

“He won’t find out.”

“I’m not risking it. You’ve got twelve girls, that’s not enough for you?”

Pavi paused, eyes wide, “...Is it enough for _you?_ ” For the very first time, his smile left his lovely face.

“Yeah. They’re beautiful. They’re women. What’s not to want.” Luigi said tiredly, hearing the disingenuous tone in own voice. But Pavi was focused more on the words. His delicate hands removed themselves from Luigi’s waistband.

“Luigi…”

“We’re done, Pavi.”

 

-

 

Grab any newspaper and you were guaranteed to find an article on the troubles of the Largo children. To Luigi’s great relief, none of them ever included any hint of incest.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Pavi scarred up his face. Luigi wondered if it was mostly due to the madness they all saw coming or if some part of it was to torment him personally by destroying the only thing he’d ever believed to be truly beautiful in this world.

By the time the face-wearing came about no one was even fazed and, frankly, Luigi would rather the press write about that than a much more guarded secret.

Nowadays, they fought again. It was mostly about inheritance, since Luigi had made it clear that was what mattered the most to him. Pavi clung to his Genterns and that was that.

But sometimes, if he really dared, Luigi would remember what it was like to be with his brother, and he almost loved what he used to be.

Of course, they were only caricatures of their former selves now, and right on cue Amber burst into the room with a brand new face, demanding to know where their father was.

She and Luigi bickered loudly for a moment before Pavi laughed airily, "My brother and sister should fuck,” knowing full well just how loaded that suggestion was.

“Pavi, shut the fuck up!”

 

-

 

The End

 


End file.
